


That night in Paris

by dienalelija



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/F, F/M, Fine Stud Lexa, Fluff, G!p Lexa, Minor Finn Collins/Clarke Griffin, Smut, gp lexa
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-18
Updated: 2016-10-21
Packaged: 2018-08-23 07:08:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8318593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dienalelija/pseuds/dienalelija
Summary: Clarke and Lexa meet in Paris and share a night of heated passion. One year later, they meet again - under very different circumstances.Smut, angst, fluff, fine stud Lexa, Paris, the appearance of all the loved characters... what more could you want?





	1. Bring your body closer to me

The bass thumped, smoke-shadowed walls throbbing with the weight of the music and the energy of the people dancing to it. Bodies writhed, glistening under the lights, moving together with a liquid weightlessness. Despite the mass of humans packed into the underground bar, a clear space was visible near the centre of the bar. This space was occupied by a woman who radiated confidence and exuded sex: long, lean legs and a tight ass wrapped up in fitted suit trousers, a lean torso accentuated by a close-cut shirt, pert breasts and delicate collarbones highlighted by an unbuttoned black waistcoat. Her strong jawline was on display; chestnut hair pulled back in tight and intricate braids. Her eyes roamed the dancefloor, the predatory gleam hidden in the foresty depths flashing every so often when the light caught them. Her head tilted in appreciation as the song changed and the unique tones of Maître Gims flooded the dancefloor. Suddenly, her gaze was caught by a flash of silver: a blonde woman, curvy, standing on the edge of the stage and swinging her hips in a way that sucked all of the moisture out of the green-eyed beauty’s mouth. Her eyes remained fixed upon the siren, following every undulation of the beautiful body.

 

_T’avais juste à lever le cil …_ _(you just had to lift an eyelash)_

And then, as if by magic, the blonde lifted her head. Sapphire and emerald caught on each other, mouths parted and breaths jagged.

 

_J’étais prête à graver ton image à l’encre noir sous mes paupières …_ _(I was ready to burn your image in black ink under my eyelids)_

The brunette unashamedly devoured the woman on stage with her darkening eyes, slowly taking in every detail available. The parted mouth was quirked into a cheeky smile, her neck was ivory that teased a mouth-watering trail to the most beautiful cleavage ever displayed; encased and showcased by a clingy silver top. Black jeans outlined curvy hips and long, muscular legs; the brunette bit her lip to stop herself from drooling. Black, strappy fuck-me heels completed the outfit, and no pure thoughts were left untouched. Olive eyes raised, and were met with a reflecting lust. A finger was extended, and then the blonde was moving; down the stairs, through the crowd, gliding through as though made unstoppable by desire. Long, elegant fingers wrapped around an almost-empty whisky tumbler, eyes never straying from the woman approaching her. Just as the object of her desire appeared in front of her, the drained glass was lowered. The brunette allowed herself to be appraised for a short moment, seeking the tell-tale flush on the pale décolletage before stepping forward to pull the woman close to her body, smirking at the small gasp the movement elicited.

“I’m Lexa,” she purred into the blonde’s ear, smirk widening as short fingernails bit into her biceps.

“Clarke,” was shakily exhaled, and as the women regarded each other, the tension enveloping them sparked and crackled, more charged than a live wire.

 

Not even an hour later, hands were running over bodies in a manner far too indecent for public. They had been coy for all of two songs before a remix of ‘Moi Je Joue’ came on, and all pretence disappeared as Clarke turned her back to Lexa with a wicked smirk painting her lips.

 

_Moi je joue… mais vous, le voulez-vous ? …_ _(Me, I play… but you, do you want to ?)_

Her ass popped back into the brunette’s crotch, and Lexa was unable to stifle the moan or subdue the swell in her trousers. Clarke shook and swayed her hips into the lean and warm body behind her, using her hands to reach back and pull her partner closer to her, letting out a needy whine when something hard pressed into the small of her back. Her hand reached up to stroke Lexa’s cheek; reassuring, waiting until a gentle kiss had been pressed into the palm of her hand before resuming her sultry dancing and kicking it up a notch.

 

_Vous êtes mon jouet … (you are my plaything)_

Her movements became slower, more sensual, oscillating. Lexa groaned as her crotch was deliciously abused, and after a few particularly mean grinds of Clarke’s hips, the brunette snapped. Her hand flew round Clarke’s body, fingers splaying out and possessively pulling blonde backwards into full contact with her thrumming body. Her pouty lips found the delicate, shell-like ear, caressing the lobe with a skilful tongue until she heard a low groan which made her release it with a gentle nip.

“I’m going to fuck you, Clar _k_ e,” her tongue clicked, making the blonde shiver in her arms, “Until you scream my name so loud that the whole of Paris can hear how well I’m _fucking_ you. Do you want that?”

The blonde whirled round, lust-fire blazing in her eyes and her chest heaving.

“ _Yes,”_ she moaned, before sliding her hands into Lexa’s braids and tugging her down for their first kiss.

 

The kiss started gentle, but became quickly heated once Clarke sucked Lexa’s bottom lip into her mouth and gave it a bite before releasing. Their eyes met, blackened by desire, and their mouths met again in a lust-fuelled furious dance of hot mouth and sliding tongue. Both women had their tricks; Clarke rolling Lexa’s lower lip round her mouth whilst Lexa raked her tongue over the roof of Clarke’s mouth. Their arms were wrapped round each other, not wandering, just clutching each other as though trying to absorb their essence through their clothing. Lexa was getting impatient, though, her cock reminding her that there were other, more pleasurable things they could do as well as making love to her mouth with her tongue. The brunette swiftly palmed Clarke’s voluptuous ass and used it to pull her hips into her own bulging crotch, the sudden force and heated contact causing the blonde’s eyes to roll back in her head. Lexa took the opening, attacking unblemished skin with her mouth and licking a hot trail up her jawbone to her ear, slowly sucking open-mouthed bruises into her skin on the way down. Clarke’s hands grasped at strong shoulders, trying to make Lexa suck harder, bite harder. The brunette smirked, knowing what the woman wanted. She took her time, ending with a kiss to the hollow at the base of the now-painted throat before slowly lifting her head up, only to be met with darkest ebony.

“Take me home, Lexa. Now,” Clarke panted, and her wish was granted with only a smirk for a response.

 

It wasn’t home, of course, but the fact that it was a hotel room didn’t diminish the fire burning them up. Their taxi ride home was torturous: Clarke discovered that Lexa spoke fluent French, which was a massive turn-on that she could do nothing about because the brunette just kept speaking, with that flawless fuck-me accent, so Clarke got more and more frustrated but could do nothing about the source of it. On arriving at the well-lit building, the blonde didn’t even wait for her partner to thank the driver before throwing herself out of the car and storming towards the hotel entrance. Lexa caught on; hurried after her, subtly adjusting her bulge so that the porteur wouldn’t be embarrassed. She caught the blonde by her wrist and directed her into the lift, pressing the top floor button before pinning the woman to the wall with her body, grinding her erection into the clothed centre of her partner. Clarke moaned and grabbed the brunette, smashing their lips together before latching onto the tanned skin on her neck and sucking it into her mouth. Happy that she’d marked her presence, Clarke switched to pressing hard kisses down the brunette’s neck, alternating each kiss with a word.

“You. Speaking. French. Is. So. Fucking. _Hot,”_ she whined out the last word as she was picked up and slammed into the wall, the display of strength causing a flood of wetness to soak her panties. Her legs wrapped round the brunette’s hips automatically, and this action caused their centres to press together, both letting out choked gasps as they felt the heat emanating from the other. Thankfully, before Lexa gave over to her primal instincts and fucked Clarke right there in the lift, the doors opened on her floor. They scrambled out, almost falling over in their desperation to get into the room and finally, be naked and alone. Lexa slid the key into the slot effortlessly, pulled the blonde into the room and shut the door behind them, kicking off her shoes with Clarke following suit.

 

They shared a look, filled with lust, but something else as well, something intangible. Both women shivered, not wanting to voice the other feeling, so instead gave over to their baser instincts. Clarke started; pulling her top over her head, revealing milky breasts spilling out of a violet lace bra. Lexa’s pants twitched; she could see the nipples straining, begging to be touched, to be sucked and bitten. The blonde turned slowly, then bent over and pulled her jeans down her legs, exposing a bubble butt perfectly encased in matching lace panties. Clarke turned back around, and Lexa’s breath caught in her throat. Clarke was absolutely stunning, creamy flesh and curves that would make a nun fall to her knees in worship. The brunette looked, and looked, until she felt her eyes would dissolve from the sight.

“You’re stunning,” she breathed out, and was rewarded with a cherry blossom blush appearing on pastel cheeks. She ducked her head, and Lexa realised that she was still clothed. With less finesse than her more feminine counterpart, Lexa shucked off her waistcoat, and swiftly unbuttoned her shirt, letting it fall to the floor behind her. She heard Clarke breathe in sharply, and wondered what had caused it – her tattoos, her visible abs, or her lack of bra. Her answer was quick, the blonde springing forward, closing the gap between them and instantly bringing a pebbled nipple into her mouth. The brunette cried out in shock and pleasure, one nipple being rolled round a wicked tongue and the other being pinched and rubbed by dextrous fingers. Her cock strained in her boxers, jealous of the attention that wasn’t being focused on it. After Clarke had left bruises on both of her breasts, Lexa pulled her head up, not hurting the woman but reminding her of who was in charge. The sudden increase in Clarke’s breathing rate indicated that this was a very welcome move, and Lexa preened. She put the blonde at arm’s length, turned her to face the bed, then slapped her ass once, quickly, more interested in the noise than the pain that others enjoyed inflicting. Clarke moaned, then wiggled her ass, an invitation which Lexa gladly accepted, slapping her twice more on the other cheek before pushing her forwards slightly so that she would go to the bed. As Clarke walked the short distance to the bed, Lexa silently removed her trousers and boxers, letting loose an inaudible moan of relief as her aching cock sprang free. The blonde had reached the bed and had mounted it without needing encouragement, and Lexa smiled as she practically prowled towards her. Clarke turned over, and her mouth dropped open as she saw the naked woman walking towards her, lean body hypnotically swaying, her proud cock leading the way. Her mouth fell open at the sight; not-too-thick and definitely bigger than average, already leaking. She couldn’t wait: she rolled forwards, up and over onto all fours before engulfing the glistening head in her mouth.

 

 Lexa groaned as her throbbing cock was surrounded by warm and wet heat, the blonde eagerly swallowing her pre-cum before rolling her tongue round the head. The brunette placed her hand on the blonde hair, for balance, but was surprised to hear a growl from the woman attached to her cock. She took her hand off; the growl got louder. She put it back on, and realisation dawned when she gripped slightly harder and the growl subsided.

_Oh._

Her cock pulsed particularly strongly, and she had to focus extremely intently to not embarrass herself in the manner of a pre-pubescent virgin. After collecting herself, she slid her hand firmly into the blonde locks, and then started moving her hand. The movement pushed Clarke’s mouth further down her cock, something that pleased them both if the moans were anything to go by, and so Lexa started slowly fucking Clarke’s mouth. The blonde was excellent, using her hands to stroke the shaft that couldn’t fit in her mouth and to play with Lexa’s balls, and she slid her tongue along the underside of Lexa’s shaft in a particularly effective movement. Not too long after, Lexa felt her cock tightening, and reluctantly pulled the blonde off her shaft. The blonde looked up at her and the brunette almost blew her load at the sight; puffy, used lips dribbling cum, and tongue hanging out slightly as though she just removed the most delicious thing from her life.

“On your back,” Lexa ordered, smirking as the blonde scrambled to obey. Her legs fell open without needing to be told, and the brunette whined as she devoured the sight before her eyes. Clarke was soaked, slit glistening and her folds swollen, clit visible and straining to be touched. Lexa crawled onto the bed, lowering her face and inhaling the scent of pure desire. The blonde moaned, bucking her hips up at the sensation of breath on her most sensitive parts. Lexa took pity on the writhing woman, only waiting a second before running her tongue through the folds from bottom to top with a broad stroke.

 

Clarke screamed out, the sudden pleasure almost unpleasant after being so wound up for so long. The brunette waited a moment for her lover to readjust, and then set about making her scream properly. Starting at the source and dipping her tongue just slightly into the essence, for one small taste, Lexa made love to Clarke’s cunt with her tongue. She sucked her clit into her mouth, nibbled it gently, licked her bottom to top repeatedly and fucked the dripping hole with her tongue, massaging the inside walls and revelling in the way they fluttered around the intruding muscle. It didn’t take long for Clarke to start shouting, Lexa’s earlier declaration of making her prowess audible to all of Paris becoming more and more reachable, and when Lexa added her fingers into the mix as she pulled Clarke’s clit into her mouth, the blonde practically shattered the eardrums located in-between her legs. Her orgasm was overwhelming, but the blonde was quickly thrown headfirst into another as Lexa swiftly rearranged herself and plunged her straining cock into velvety walls. Both women groaned at the initial sensation, one with the aftershocks of two orgasms, the other trying to stave hers off. They waited, panting harshly, until Clarke had stopped twitching. A kiss to the cheek brought Lexa back to her mission, and the brunette started slowly pulling out and thrusting back in, the stretch and burn causing Clarke to gasp, the satin squeezing making Lexa almost lose control. She waited until Clarke looked a bit more at ease before picking up the pace, progressively, until she was slamming into her with such force that the bed creaked and protested. Clarke had turned into a writhing mass of incoherent words at the sheer amount of pleasure her body was receiving, and Lexa was stuck between staring at Clarke’s beautiful face and her mesmerising pussy. She shifted, a change in position that caused Clarke to scream, and Lexa realised that she’d found the spongy patch on Clarke’s inner front wall. She grinned, using the new position to her advantage, and changed to short, deep thrusts, catching the spot every time and making moans and groans spill from the blonde’s mouth incessantly. It didn’t take long for Clarke to come again, but this time Lexa was close behind her. The choking of her cock by the desperately quivering walls was too much for the brunette to resist, and she moaned loudly as her release spilled into the wet haven it needed. Lexa fell forwards, head resting on Clarke’s damp shoulder, and allowed herself a moment of vulnerability. The blonde, sated beyond belief and almost liquefied, managed to lift her hand up and place it on Lexa’s head, gently massaging the mussed-up braids. They shared the moment for long moments, until Lexa allowed her heart to speak.

“Stay,” she whispered. The body beneath her tensed, and Lexa closed her eyes, preparing for the inevitable. Instead, what she got was a kiss to the head and a finger under her chin, gently tipping her head up to meet cerulean skies.

“Okay,” Clarke murmured, craning her head down to press her mouth against the relieved brunette’s, “Okay.”

 

 

Clarke awoke to a ray of sunlight gently caressing her face, and sleepily blinked herself to consciousness. She was warm, content; a caramel arm around her waist holding her close to the still-sleeping brunette. A feeling fluttered in her stomach, and every muscle tensed at the unwelcome emotion. The sudden stiffness disturbed Lexa, and the sleeping woman started muttering anxiously in her sleep. Clarke held her breath and willed herself to relax, heaving a silent sigh of relief when the woman stayed sound asleep. Dreams and sunlight suited her: gone was the seductress from last night, replaced by a young woman with sleep-smoothed features and the most beautiful face that Clarke had ever seen. Her heart clenched; her mind had been made up as soon as eye contact had been made across the dancefloor. Resolved, she gently, ever so gently, removed Lexa’s arm from her waist and placed it beside her on the bed. Then, she carefully manoeuvred her naked body out from under the silky bedsheets and set about retrieving her clothes, cheeks staining pink as heated memories from last night flooded her mind. Dressed, her eyes scanned the room for a pen and paper, thankfully finding them on top of the bureau. Scribbling a note and picking up her shoes, she opened the hotel room door, but was unable to leave without looking back one last time, to engrain that heavenly face forever in her mind. Clarke drank her in for longer than she should have before steeling herself and shutting the door behind her, walking away without another glance.

 

The coldness in her bed woke Lexa up. Her eyes remained closed; not wanting to see the empty space. She focused instead on calming her breathing, on putting her feelings back in their rusted-iron cage. Long moments later, clear eyes took in the deserted hotel room with no hint of pain or surprise. She checked her watch: two hours ‘til departure. Plenty of time. She got to her feet, shivering as the air stroked her skin and pebbled her still-sensitive nipples. A step towards the bathroom; a step closer to washing Clarke off her. Another step brought the bureau into her line of sight: tentatively, unwanted hope battering against the bars of her heart, her feet carried her to the waiting paper.

 

Eyes scanned, fingers flinched.

 

The shower started, the water gently washing the tears from the brunette’s face.

 

The piece of paper lay intact on the wood, blank but for one word slightly smudged by a teardrop.

 

 _Sorry_.


	2. Chez nous - Chez vous

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have another chapter, fabulous readers! 
> 
> I won't tell you what this fic is about, but I can tell you now: Clexa endgame (obviously, because they're meant to be together) and this isn't a pregnancy fic. Other than that, welcome back, and I hope you enjoy! 
> 
> TW: death, mentions of self-harm

_Dank, rich earth filled her nostrils, infused her lungs. Damp seeped through her clothes, chilling her already numb body to the bone. Salt burned pain onto her cheeks; eyes scrunched up against the barrage of memories flooding her mind:_

_Age 5, blowing out the candles on her Action Man birthday cake._

_13 years old, crying into their accepting arms when she confessed to liking girls._

_At 18, when they went to Paris for the first time; fostering her deep and infinite love for the city of light. They had taken pictures everywhere: the top of the Eiffel Tower, the dome of the Sacr_ _é_ _-Coeur, the towers of Notre-Dame._

_Aged 24, as she watched the life slip from their eyes. Their dying words, choking in the blood in their airways._

_“Be happy, love. Be happy,” the flashing blue arriving just in time to highlight the light in their eyes disappear completely; leaving behind glassy, blank orbs._

“NO!” Lexa woke screaming, legs thrashing and arms grasping blindly for the parents she couldn’t save. Heart threatening to burst out of her chest, the brunette swallowed the bitter bile in her throat. She lowered her head to her knees, ignoring the damp slick on her skin, focusing on regulating her breath and clearing her mind. The brunette knew that the nightmare would come today, she had been certain of its impending arrival. Today was the day that her new business opened: LGBT-focused, ‘ _Chez nous – Chez vous’_ was a fully licenced nightclub on Saturdays and a café Monday through Thursday.

Growing up intersex, Lexa had found herself severely lacking in social places that she could visit and feel… _normal_ , for want of a better word. Sure, there were nightclubs – but what about those in the community who didn’t enjoy drinking/dancing? Those who wanted a conversation that involved clothes staying on; smiles and blushes exchanged over steaming coffee and crumbling cake? This was the spark that changed ‘ _Chez nous – Chez vous’_ from a dream into a reality. Wanting to not only respect her parents’ wishes but also provide a safe haven for others, Lexa used a chunk of her inheritance to purchase, gut and refurbish a building in an inclusive arrondissement, knowing that this would fulfil her request to ‘be happy’.

Calmer, the brunette got out of bed to have a shower, only to be interrupted by her phone ringing.

 

_Incoming call: Anya_

Smiling, Lexa swiped right, the phone not even to her ear before words started spilling out of it.

“… doing, squirt? Big night tonight!”

“You’re only a year older than me, Anya, you can’t call me squirt,” Lexa grumbled good-naturedly. She didn’t mind her best friend calling her that, and said best friend was very well aware of this fact.

“You holding up?” the tone changed to serious, stiffening Lexa’s shoulders in response.

“Yes,” her reply was short, and Anya sighed exasperatedly.

“You can’t get mad at me for caring, Lexa, but I’ll leave it at that. Are you ready for the opening?”

The women descended into casual chatter, bantering back and forth as was their relationship. They didn’t talk on the phone often; they saw each other too frequently for that, and that night would be no different. Chuckling at one of Anya’s more crude jokes, Lexa checked her watch and grimaced slightly, “Anyways, Ahn, I’d better go. Got to shower and get ready – ”

“ – take care of morning wood you mean?”

“Anya!” Lexa shouted, exasperation blistering her words, “Stop delving into my personal life!”

“I can’t help it that you’re so worked up, clearly you need to get lai -”

“Anya.” The brunette’s voice was steel, unbending, the mood changed within a millisecond. “I can’t talk about this again. Not again. I can’t,” her voice cracked on the last syllable, “I didn’t even know her,” she whispered.

“But you clearly felt something, otherwise you wouldn’t have waited for her, for a whole _year_ ,”

“Please, Anya, don’t say it,” Lexa pleaded, fists clenching as memories saturated her senses; memories that she’d replayed far too many times to count.

Her best friend’s tone was soft, soothing, “But you know I’m right, Alexa,”. The brunette smiled sadly, an ethereal hand caressing her cheek.

“I know,” she murmured, “But maybe it’s time to stop waiting.”

“That’s up to you, little one. For now, go and get cleaned up. See you at 7, bisous!”

Lexa hung up, rubbing her forehead as she walked to the shower and stepped straight in. The water kissed her skin, memories kissed her eyelids.

“Enough,” the brunette muttered, slamming her head against the shower wall, scaring away the supple skin and loving mouth, “Enough.”

 

The bar was stocked, bottles lining the wall from one end of the room to the other. Lexa prided herself on her exquisite taste in alcohol, so had some more ‘select’ bottles locked away in case a more particular client came in. The queue was round the block; the air was buzzing with energy.

Lexa had opted for an elegant suit to highlight her lean body, and Anya was dressed to impress: leather-look trousers and a ripped top showing off sculpted arms and flawless skin. Both women were fluttering round; it was 10.25pm and the doors would open at half past. Lexa inhaled deeply through her nose and kissed the date tattoo on her wrist. “This is for you,” she whispered against the scars that had been inked over.

“You ready, squirt?” Anya had snuck up behind her, trying to scare her but to no avail. Lexa said nothing, she merely extended her arm to grip her best friend’s forearm firmly, both women smiling at the gesture.

“Écho! Deux minutes!” Lexa called out on releasing Anya’s arm, receiving a nod and a thumbs up from the pink-haired DJ. The brunette strode towards the door and opened it to a bank of screams and cheers, the usually stoic woman unable to stop the smile that split her face at the sight of so many people. She held her hands up, commanding silence. “Chers amis, chères amies, chères personnes: bienvenue à tous, chez nous – et chez vous !” she cried out to a deafening roar of approval that squeezed her heart. The noise alerted Écho, and she immediately started the music, drawing inside the mass of people waiting. Lexa walked into her bar, proud smile lighting up her face and relief coursing through her veins as people immediately filled the dancefloor.

 

The club was packed within an hour, Lexa having lost count of how many drinks she’d served within twenty minutes. Finishing off a row of tequila shots with a flourish, she allowed her adrenaline to take charge of her actions and smiled flirtily at the gorgeous girl who had ordered them, leaning forward to husk “Would you like lime with those?” and was rewarded with a crimson blush. The girl opened her mouth to reply, but Lexa’s attention was rudely snatched by her best friend who arrived and slapped her ass, shouting in her ear “Lex! Come and meet some people!”

Lexa inwardly rolled her eyes at her cock-blocking friend before shrugging an apology at the mystery woman. Before she could follow her friend, a silky voice tugged her back.

“I’d like to slap that ass myself,” she purred, “Come and find me later. My name’s Costia,” and she disappeared into the throng of people, hips swaying in a tantalising manner. The brunette mentally threw her hands up in the air, allowing herself to think about what the night would bring - what she hadn’t had for a year; intimacy.

Exhaling, she wound her way round various people, greeting them and laughing and hugging the friends she knew until she managed to find Anya near the entrance, talking to a Hispanic girl in a figure-hugging dress.

“Alexa! There you are,” Anya grinned, pulling Lexa next to her, “This is Raven, the girl who emailed about a hen party, remember?”

Lexa smiled and leaned forwards to kiss the girl’s cheek, “How could I forget? You were one of the first to contact us,”

“I knew it would be perfect,” Raven declared, gesturing at the dancing crowd, “We came to check it out before the actual thing next Friday, you know, to see it with actual clients as opposed to us rich kids who rented it out for the night,” she laughed, earning a snort from Anya.

“Oh, so you all came for a ‘test run’?” Lexa joked, “Including the hen herself?”

“Yup!” The sassy Spanish girl cocked her hip, “In fact, that’s them over there. ¡Amigos!”

The women turned to see a group of people approaching: two women, two men.

 

Lexa’s heart stopped beating, her lungs stopped breathing. Her vision blurred, black spots dancing across her eyes. Her tongue went fuzzy, but before it went completely numb she managed to spit out one word.

 

“Clarke?” 

 

\-----------------------------------

“Clarke?”

 

Lexa stepped forward, almost falling, only to be pulled back by Anya who had an expression of stone carved onto her face. She had seen the flash in the blonde woman’s eyes, followed by a glossing over of falsehood, and even though there was visible pain in her eyes, Anya knew what was coming.

 

“Sorry, have we met?”

 

Anya closed her eyes in anguish for her best friend, who visibly shuddered under her touch. Being invalidated by people was one of Lexa’s touchiest points, probably the worst thing you could do to her was pretend she didn’t exist in the capacity that she did. Her first girlfriend had kept her in the closet, so that she could herself have a boyfriend. Her second had broken up with her for no reason, and then called Lexa a ‘stalkerish freak who’d always had a lesbian crush on her’ when the heartbroken brunette had tried to make sense of what had happened. These two relationships had been followed by a three-year romance with a girl that Lexa had thought was heaven walking on two feet, only to be cast aside and labelled a ‘phase’ when the woman had had enough. Lexa hadn’t had relationships since then, hadn’t formed romantic connections; only physical. Clarke had been the first person with whom the brunette had been intimate with on more than one level in many years, and now the blonde was doing to Lexa what everyone else had done before – invalidated her. Anya pulled the frozen woman back to her side, trying desperately to cover for her, “Sorry, it’s been such a busy night! So many new faces, you know? It was great to meet you, and come on in when you’re ready!” she squeezed the Hispanic woman’s shoulder, shrugging off her concerned face and physically dragged her best friend back into the smoke and noise.

“Who was that, Clarke?” Raven asked, watching like a hawk for any clues.

“I don’t remember,” Clarke lied, blinking away the memories hovering behind her eyelids, “I must have met her a while ago,” she took her friend’s hand and dragged her into the club, leaving a disbelieving Raven and two very confused men outside. The trio stood there in silence, before a cry of “SHOTS!” flew out of the door to meet them, and the sound of Octavia’s drunken tones broke the inexplicable tension that had settled.

“Come on, Lincoln, let’s go save your lover,” Raven laughed, dragging the tall man after her and smiling unsurely as the other man followed.

 

Lexa’s head was reeling, and her hand had poured and tipped two shots of tequila down her throat before the feeling in her mind started to come back. _Clarke_ … she angrily lifted the bottle to her mouth, gulping down the fiery liquid and not even coughing at the burn. The feeling was welcome, the sting on her insides pleasant. Anya stood slightly to one side, unsure of what to do. The brunette was clearly angry, but Anya had never seen this side to her friend before. The twisted grin on her face was almost feral, and she dragged her hand across her mouth before spitting into the air, “Well if _she_ can forget, so can I,” and marching towards a brown-haired girl that Anya vaguely recognised from earlier. Muttering under her breath, she made to follow her friend, only to be stopped by a hand on her waist. Anya whipped her head round, ready to give whoever was touching her a piece of her mind, but was kept mute by a pair of glittering chocolate eyes.

“Care to explain what happened outside, cheekbones?” Raven asked, “I know that Clarke’s hiding something; she’s been acting differently ever since she came back from Paris last year. From Lexa’s reaction outside, I’m assuming it’s to do with her?”

Anya smiled at the girl’s intelligence and motioned her to the bar, sliding behind it to whip them up a couple of cocktails. Despite the heaviness of the impending conversation, the drink-making woman could feel a definite something in the air – and between her legs – when she looked at the Spanish girl and made eye contact.

 

Further down the bar, Clarke was taking shot after shot with Octavia, her other best friend. The girl had gotten drunk before they’d even left the apartment, so Clarke had asked the bartender – Nyko? – to intersperse shots of water with the shots of tequila, which he’d thankfully done. Her heart hadn’t stopped pounding since she’d seen Lexa outside the bar, and god her soul had cracked when she’d acted as if she hadn’t known her. But she couldn’t just leap into her arms, tell her sorry for leaving, tell her she’d thought about her every day since. That wasn’t fair, not when she’d been the one who had left. But the blonde also couldn’t ignore the hot stab of jealousy when she turned and saw Lexa dancing much too intimately with another brunette girl, her hands on her waist and mouth close to her ear. It burned her, a fire that consumed her entire body when she saw Lexa claim that other girl’s mouth with her own, and Clarke’s core unintentionally clenched as she remembered that skilled, strong tongue plundering her own mouth, making her moan and gasp, much like that girl was doing. Filled with an indescribable feeling, Clarke left Octavia with Lincoln at the bar and walked towards the furiously kissing girls, only to be stopped by Raven and –

“This is Anya, Clarke. And she told me about Paris, so you and I are going to go for a walk and talk, because you cannot stop that girl from kissing someone else when a) you were the one that left, and b) you have a boyfriend here. Too many complications. I’m not judging you, Griff, I love you. So tell me what happened,” the Hispanic woman enveloped her friend in her arms, and Anya slipped away, content that Raven would do what she said. She made sure that Lexa was still lip-locked on the dancefloor and not doing something inherently stupid like running after her lost love, before taking up her best-friend duty and filling in Lexa’s place at the bar.

 

Two hours later saw the moonlight bathing a pair of women on a bench, salt crusted on skin and tangible sadness floating in the air. Clarke had cried, Raven had listened; they had hugged and talked until there were no words left to be said. Except for the ones perched on the edge of Raven’s tongue: “You know what you have to do, right?”

The blonde sighed, lifting her tear-stained skin to the night sky, allowing the stars to fill her with strength, “Yes, I do. I’ll talk to her tomorrow. I’ll tell her everything.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chez nous - chez vous = Our home - Your home  
> Bisous = Kisses (typical 'bye' in French)  
> Chers amis, chères amies, chères personnes: bienvenue à tous, chez nous – et chez vous = Dear [male] friends, dear [female] friends, dear people: welcome to all of you, to my home - and to yours


End file.
